Desert of the Real
by RaistlinofMetallica
Summary: What is reality? Where do the lines between the world of the real and the dream blur? Draco's about to find out just how far down the rabbit hole goes. A crossover. The truth is a terrible burden to bear, when the fiction is more pleasant.
1. Waking Dreams

Desert of the Real

By RaistlinofMetallica

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Blanket disclaimer: Anything you recognize, except for my OCs and the plot, I don't own. I do this for fun and absolutely no profit.

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I: Waking Dreams

Draco Malfoy, a sixth year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, absently poked at his eggs with his fork. He was ignoring his housemates, even as a few tried to get his attention. The casual observer would say that there was something troubling him and would probably attribute it to the arrest of his father at the beginning of the summer. But this was not what occupied his mind of late; in fact, he hadn't given the matter of his father's arrest much thought for almost an entire month. No, it was something else that preoccupied him.

His head of house had a watchful eye on him, concerned for one of his most talented and, normally, charismatic students. Professor Snape was associated closely with the Malfoy family and, as a result, seemed to know just what the young Malfoy would be up to from time to time. The professor had probably been expecting that Draco would have been far more vocal upon his return to school, possibly even more antagonistic to the Golden Trio than in the past.

But there was no Golden Trio, not anymore. Potter had simply left the house of his relatives one morning during the summer holiday and never returned. Rumours of his death at the hands of the dark lord were frequent, but unlikely. Evidence pointed that even the Death Eaters were looking for the errant wizard, hoping to find him before the Ministry did. A sombre cloud had settled over Gryffindor house since Potter's disappearance, dampening the proud roar of the lions. Granger cried whenever his name was mentioned and the Weasel spent much of his time trying to comfort her before he began to despair as well.

The blond Slytherin pushed a piece of egg through the grease from the barely touched sausages on his plate. Nothing felt real anymore. Everything seemed as though it was merely repeating over and over again, like a nightmare of déjà vous from which he couldn't wake. He could no longer tell where his dreams ended and the world of the waking began; it was a fact that should have worried him more than it did.

It was his nightmares that frightened him. They felt real, more than anything else lately. Horrible, terrifying visions of a darkened world and things that he could only describe as inhuman monstrosities, twisted golems with burning red eyes. In them, he was suspended in the womb, unable to scream despite his desire to do so. When he woke from these nightmares, he fell strangely detached and removed from the world. Hogwarts seemed surreal after the nightmares and his mind would begin to drift, trying to search for what was out of place, but finding nothing.

Patterns formed in the grease as he swirled the egg again. He felt like he was dreaming again, trapped in the unreal world. His whole life felt like a dream that never ended and he desperately wanted to wake up. He was sick of sleeping.

The flapping of wings filled the Great Hall as the owls entered with the morning post. Draco raised his head, regarding his family owl with disinterest. Nothing ever seemed to change; even his mother's letter was the same as always.

Then, something _did_ change and he could feel it almost instantly.

A second owl swept down and deposited a single small, square package before him, wrapped in brown paper. A note had been secured on with twine, his name printed clearly on the plain parchment. Curious, he freed the note and started to open it, when he realized he was being watched closely by his housemates, too closely for comfort. He pushed himself to his feet and gathered his mail quickly, pocketing the small package as he left the Great Hall.

Quickly, he checked to see that no one was following him and then proceeded to head for the empty chamber on the side of the Entrance Hall. The last time he had been in this room was in his first year, right before they had been brought into the Great Hall to be sorted. Casting a locking charm on the door, Draco felt instantly more secure and withdrew the package from his pocket, tucking it under his arm so that he could finish opening the note. He tore it open to reveal a blank page.

Slowly, words formed on the parchment to form a message in emerald green ink. _Hello, Draco._

Perhaps it had been charmed to reveal itself to him and him alone. But, why this message and who had sent it? The words vanished, to be replaced with new ones.

_The Matrix has you._

Draco blinked, not comprehending the words before him.

_Knock, knock, Draco._

Someone knocked on the door just then and the Slytherin nearly jumped out of his skin, wand in hand and an almost illegal curse on the tip of his tongue.

"Draco, are you in there? It's me, Pansy. Open up!"

Taking a calming breath, he moved to the doors and dismissed the locking charm, but only opened the door a fraction. "What is it?"

"Are you all right? You haven't been yourself lately, Draco," she said, looking strangely worried. "Is something wrong?"

He sighed and looked away. "It's nothing."

"Look, we're going to Hogsmeade today, if you want to come," Pansy told him, not really looking at his face. "There's a new pub in town that's supposed to be really good."

Draco's eyes trailed to the parchment in his hand. Something felt off here, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

_I wouldn't go, Draco. You won't find answers there._

"So, are you coming or not?" she asked.

He turned to her and shook his head. "I'm sorry. I've personal business to attend to and can't make it. I'll catch you up later."

"All right, your loss," Pansy said, shrugging and turning to leave.

Draco quickly snapped the door shut and locked it again, casting silencing charms on the room. "Who are you?" he shouted at the parchment. "What do you want?"

_Have you ever had a dream you were sure was real? _

Growling, he tried to think of spells that would tell him exactly who was writing this and where they were. This had to be some sort of elaborate joke. What other explanation could there be?

_What if you couldn't tell the difference between what was real and dream? How would you know if you're really awake?_

Draco's mind emptied instantly, all thoughts scattered to the four winds. That very same thought had been running through his mind for the past month or so and, oddly, he found himself thinking of his nightmares. They had felt so _real_, unlike the rest of his life at the moment which seemed like a children's story taken on a twisted life of its own.

_I know what you're looking for, Draco. I asked myself the same question, not too long ago._

He had questions, so many questions, and he wanted answers. "What is it? What has me? What is the Matrix?"

_Open the package. The answer awaits you._

"Who are you?"

_You can call me Ophiuchus._

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AN: I have no idea why or _how_ I wrote this. I'm supposed to be preparing for finals. I have the flu and a fever. I'm frankly surprised this turned out coherent. Um, notes? Ophiuchus means Serpent Bearer. This was inspired by one of my friends who wondered just _what _would be breaking the rules if the Harry Potter Universe was part of the Matrix? I could have some fun with this. I'm going back to my bed-confinement now. Reviews are welcome, though I'm too sick to care at the moment.


	2. Wonderland

**Desert of the Real**

_By RaistlinofMetallica_

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_II: Wonderland_

Draco opened the small package and withdrew a small, funny-shaped black object. It seemed to be a muggle device of some sort, but he had no idea what it was or why this Ophiuchus would send it to him, especially since muggle devices wouldn't work in Hogwarts. He noticed lines along the sides of the device, probably meaning that it could be opened up or manipulated in some way. Confused, he shook his head and turned back to the parchment. "This is my answer?"

_Of course it isn't, Draco. That little device you're holding is a muggle cellular phone. You'll need it, shortly._

He glared at the emerald letters in annoyance. "You obviously know nothing about this school. Muggle devices cannot function on Hogwarts grounds!" he said smugly, shaking the 'cell phone' at the parchment. "The magic interferes with their ability to work!"

_The school's ambient magic doesn't interfere with portkeys, Draco._

Instantly, the Slytherin dropped the device like a hot coal and rounded on the parchment. "A portkey? Just what do you think you're trying to do?"

_You wanted answers, did you not? The answers do not lie within the halls of Hogwarts and there are those within the school that would seek to prevent you from learning the truth. Even now, Aurors are arriving at the gates of the school with orders for your capture and I can assure you from personal experience that they do not have your best interests in mind. You have two ways of leaving this, Slytherin, and that is either through the portkey I have provided you or through the gates with the Aurors._

Draco swore and kicked at the empty package. He was trapped between two unknowns and both could be potentially hazardous to a continued existence. He knew that the Aurors had no love for his family and they'd toss him into Azkaban alongside his father without a second thought. And while Ophiuchus had not yet lied, there was no guarantee that there was no misfortune awaiting him at the portkey's destination.

"How do I know you're not one of them?" Draco asked, tightly gripping the parchment. "How do I know this isn't a trap?"

_Do you really have a choice in the matter?_

He scowled and picked up the muggle device, knowing that his enigmatic benefactor had a point.

_Are you scared, Malfoy?_

The Slytherin stared at the parchment a moment, as though seeing the handwriting for the first time. It was a challenge – childish, really – but ultimately familiar; it seemed the sort of thing that Potter would have said, had he not vanished. His lips curled in a smirk as he answered, "You wish."

Instantly, he felt a tug around his navel as the portkey activated and Hogwarts disappeared in a whirlwind of colour and rushing air. His feet slammed into the ground and he found himself in a completely alien place.

Dilapidated rows of identical buildings lined the vacant streets, the windows either broken or removed entirely. Many of the terraces on the buildings looked unstable, as though the merest thought could send them crumbling to pieces. A nearby sign proclaimed the empty street as 'High Road' and leaning against the nearby graffiti-covered wall there was a very strange looking woman, her arms folded across her chest. She seemed to be staring directly at him, though he could not actually see her eyes through the dark glasses she wore.

"O-Ophiuchus?" he managed to ask, clutching the now-defunct portkey and the parchment tightly.

She smirked, tucking a strand of her dark, shoulder-length hair behind her ear. "No, Draco," she said, stepping forward with an eerie, cat-like grace. "I am Maia. I asked Ophiuchus to bring you. He seemed to think you had potential."

"Look, Ophiuchus told me I was in danger and that if I took the portkey, I'd get some answers," Draco snarled, jabbing his finger at her. "Now, you are going to tell me what in the name of Merlin is going on!"

The woman, Maia, chuckled and pushed her glasses further up on her nose. "And answers you shall get, little Dragon, if you would follow me," she replied, finally, starting to walk away.

He followed her, feeling strangely unnerved. Just this morning, things had been almost painfully normal and then that package appeared. Now, there were Aurors looking for him and he was being led to Merlin knows where by a pair of enigmatic nutters that didn't have a straight answer in their entire collective bodies.

Maia's long, black leather coat swirled as she led him deep into a shadowed alley. She stopped, then, and turned, raising a metallic looking device in her hand. She levelled it at his face and he could see that there was a small hole at the end of the device that faced him. "Don't move," she told him.

Draco was not stupid. He could guess, logically, that the metallic object was clearly some sort of weapon – probably muggle – and that it would probably hurt like hell if it was used on him. So, being smart, he did as he was told and stood perfectly still. "What is that?" he asked, trying to determine just how bad his situation happened to be.

Maia smirked. "Protection."

"From what?" he asked in disbelief.

The smile faded. "From you," she replied. "Now, lean back against the wall and relax."

"Then you'll give me answers?" he asked, quickly moving to the wall and resisting the urge to sneer in disgust at the filthy state of the alley.

The woman shook her head, hiding a grin as she withdrew a small black object from her pocket. It looked similar to the muggle device that Ophiuchus had sent him. "You're a stubborn one, Draco. I like that," she said and raised the device to her ear. "Operator, can you give me a location on Hamal and Vega?"

"Right here!" a cheery woman's voice chimed in. The woman was young, possibly only a few years older than Draco, and was lugging a very strange-looking large device at her side. Behind her stood a man with a hawkish face and grey-streaked hair, his face drawn in a stern expression that rivalled that of Professor Snape. The two newcomers were dressed similarly to Maia; both possessed dark clothing covered by long black leather coats and darkened glasses that hid their eyes from sight.

Maia nodded, stepping back a little. "Never mind, Operator," she spoke into the device. "They've arrived. Where is Ophiuchus?"

There was a pause and the two newcomers fussed over the device, attaching a pair of cables from the device to a box on wheels.

Then, Maia smiled and put the device away. "Now, Draco, would you please remove your robes and lift up your shirt?"

"What?" Draco asked, both appalled and bewildered.

The woman pointed the metallic device directly between his eyes and her voice took on an edge of steel. "We have reason to believe you are bugged. If you so much as put a finger out of place, I will put a bullet through your head. Is that perfectly clear?"

"Yes," the Slytherin answered, not really understanding what exactly a bullet was but not exactly dying to find out either.

Maia smiled. "Good. Now, remove your robes and lift up your shirt."

Draco did just that, feeling very much confused. This day just kept getting weirder and weirder.

"You may want to hold him still, Vega," the second woman said, hefting the large device into her hands. She must have been Hamal, then.

The man grunted and pressed a small button on the box. A dull hum began to come from the device in the young woman's hands and the man gave her a nod of satisfaction, before approaching the Slytherin. "This may be... uncomfortable," he said, his voice thickly accented, and he firmly grabbed a hold of the boy's shoulder.

"What does that thing do?" Draco asked, suddenly feeling very nervous. His sense of self-preservation was telling him that whatever was going on, it would be a lot better for his health if he was nowhere near it.

Maia seemed to stare straight through him. "Have you had a dream, recently, that you were in a hospital or having your eyes examined?"

"Not really," the rather perturbed Slytherin answered quickly. "I did have nightmare the other night. Dreamt an ashwinder crawled into my stomach."

"Oh, that sounds like a bug," Hamal said gleefully, practically beaming as she lifted the large device and pressed what looked like an open-ended tube against his stomach. "Just hold still and we'll get it out, no problem!"

Draco, somehow, was not convinced that the girl was making any sense.

"Let's have a look," Hamal chirped, her eyes focusing on a square-shaped thing on the device. She twisted the handles she was using to hold it and Draco felt something move in his stomach.

Maia glanced over, eyebrows raised. "It's on the move. Don't lose it."

"I'll get it," Hamal said, her face setting with determination. Suddenly, she jerked on the handles.

The Slytherin felt something definitely trying to resist and risked a look down at his stomach. A lump was rapidly rising on his stomach, writhing under the tube. Pain jolted through his body as a small thing that vaguely resembled an ashwinder was pulled forcibly from the lump and launched into a small, empty glass tube attached to the device. "MERLIN! That was really in me?" he screamed, horrified and strangely transfixed.

Hamal nodded, beaming cheerfully as she unscrewed the tube containing the 'bug' and emptied it on the ground.

Maia lowered the metallic device in her hand and aimed it at the little 'bug,' which appeared to be crawling away. The woman pulled back a finger and there was a sound like the cracking of a whip. The 'bug' exploded, shattering into hundreds of tiny metal bits with a wisp of smoke.

Draco made a note that he did not want that muggle device pointed at his head anymore.

A hand fell on his shoulder. It was Maia. "Now, we can talk," she said, a warm smile on her lips. "Hamal, Vega! Let's go. Ophiuchus is waiting for us."

Hamal nodded, picking up the device again. "We'll lead the way."

Vega moved to assist her with the device and, after gathering the cables, the two of them began to walk back out to the street. Behind them, Maia and Draco followed.

"What was that?" the Slytherin asked. He had never seen anything quite like that before and when coupled with everything that had been happening, he was beginning to believe that this was all some sort of strange, twisted nightmare.

Maia's face settled into a sombre expression. "That was a bug. The Aurors must have placed it there. It would have allowed them to listen in on us and track down our location, something we cannot afford."

"You said you'd give me answers," Draco growled. "What's going on?"

The woman folded her hands behind her back and took a deep breath. "I asked myself the same question, once, a long time ago. Since then, I have been asked that question many times, by many people. Of them, you are the second wizard to hear the answer."

"Who was the first?" he asked, wondering if he had heard of this wizard.

Maia smiled absently. "Ophiuchus – he was the one who suggested we look at you as a potential. He spoke highly of you."

"Will I get to meet him?" Draco asked, slightly flattered at the idea that a wizard he didn't even know had spoken highly of him.

The woman nodded sharply. "Undoubtedly," she paused a moment, as though considering something. "You look as though you expect to wake up at any moment."

They came to a stop in front of one of the identical dilapidated buildings. Hamal and Vega opened the door and started inside. They followed.

"Well, you'll have to forgive me, but this does seem terribly surreal," Draco replied, stepping over some fallen rubble.

Maia seemed to be amused by that statement. "Do you believe in fate, Draco?"

"No, I don't," he replied. "I like the idea that I'm in control of my own life."

The group started up a rather battered staircase, carefully sidestepping potential pitfalls and broken beams. "I know exactly what you mean, Draco," Maia said, smirking. "You came here because you know something is wrong with the world. What it is, you cannot explain, but you feel it as surely as if it were a splinter in your mind. This feeling has led you here, to me. Do you know what I am talking about?"

"Yes, I think so," Draco replied, mulling it over a moment. "Ophiuchus called it... the Matrix? He said it has me. What is it?"

They had left the stairs now and started down a narrow hallway. The group entered the first door on their right, into a small flat. Hamal and Vega disappeared into the next room; a mass of bound, thick cords trailed out of the room and vanished behind a tattered sofa. Two worn, overstuffed chairs and a small end table were the only other things in the room. A single glass of water rested on the small table, astoundingly crystal-clear.

Maia elegantly lowered herself into a chair and gestured for him to sit. Once he was seated, she began, "The Matrix is all around you, Draco. It is in your food, it is in the air you breathe, and it is in this very room. It is there when you wake up and it is there when you go to sleep at night. You can feel it when you do your homework and you can feel it when you speak with your friends. The Matrix is the world that blinds you from the truth, a web of lies so intricate that you cannot see the truth."

"And that is?" Draco prompted her, eager to finally get an answer.

She folded her hands in front of her face. "You are slave, Draco. Like everyone in this world, you are trapped in a prison that you cannot see, or taste, or touch. It is a prison for your mind."

"No spell can snare the entire world," he snorted, giving the woman a disparaging glare. "That's impossible."

Maia lowered her hands. "And if it isn't?"

"I'd need to see proof," Draco replied, stubbornly. He sincerely doubted she'd be able to provide any. There was no one, the Dark Lord, Dumbledore and Merlin included that could ensnare the whole world in a spell. The sheer amount of energy needed to do that would be astronomical!

The woman nodded and withdrew a small silver box from her pocket. She opened it, emptying the contents into her hand and snapped it shut once more. It disappeared into her pocket and she opened up the palm of her hand, revealing two clear, coloured capsules. One was red and the other was blue. "There is only one way to get the proof, Draco," she said, deadly serious. "But I must warn you: whatever you choose, there can be no turning back."

He stared at the capsules a moment and then looked back at her, silently indicating that she should continue.

Maia held up the blue capsule. "If you take the blue pill, you will wake up in your bed and this will all be a dream." She then held up the red capsule. "If you take the red pill, you will stay here and we will show you the truth that has been kept from you."

Draco considered a moment and reached forward.

The woman spoke once more. "Remember, all I can offer you is the truth."

"They say curiosity killed the cat," the Slytherin commented dryly, picking up the red pill. He examined it a moment and then swallowed it, taking a sip of water. "I'm not a cat."

Maia smiled in amusement, shaking her head.

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AN: I am feeling much better! No more finals, no more flu! Yes, portkeys seem to work on Hogwarts grounds, in OotP and GoF are to be believed. Draco actually is in London, now, in a place called Church End, near the North Circular. I believe its Neasden, but I'm not sure of that. One of my friends looked it up and suggested it. (Thanks, Shir!) Maia is the name of a star in the Pleiades. Vega, meaning 'eagle' or 'vulture,' is named for a star in the constellation Lyra. Hamal, meaning 'lamb,' is named for a star in Aries. Ophiuchus is also the name of a constellation. Next chapter: Draco enters the real world, Ophiuchus is met and some things are explained.


	3. On the Threshold

**Desert of the Real**

_By RaistlinofMetallica_

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_III: On the Threshold_

Maia rose from the chair, her smile fading. "Follow me," she said and started into the next room. "The pill you took is part of a tracking program."

Hesitantly, Draco stood and turned to follow her. "What's a program?"

She paused a moment, considering. "Think of it as a type of spell, Draco. It allows us to find the real you in the waking world."

"I see," the Slytherin murmured, "A tracking spell... That makes sense. If we're trapped in a dream, you'd have to find out where my real body is to wake me up, wouldn't you?"

Maia smiled again, shook her head and gave a bark-like laugh. "You have a pretty good grasp of what's going on, Draco. Better than most in your situation, I should say. Perhaps I should liberate wizards more often."

"There's one thing that's been bothering me, though," Draco said, giving her an even glare. "If you're here _inside_ the dream, just how are you supposed to get me out?"

The dark-haired woman pushed up her glasses on her nose. "Your mind cannot survive without your body, nor can your body survive without your mind. Therefore, we enter the dream to guide people back to their bodies, in a manner of speaking."

"Ah, right," he nodded, absently. It made perfect sense. His father had three whole volumes on dream warfare in the secret library under the manor and the first tenant of dream warfare was that your mind and body were intrinsically connected; if one died, so did the other. However, there was something troubling about the idea that this was all a dream. For instance, how much of his life was real and how much of it was the dream? And just who – or what – was behind the construction of this nefariously life-like dream prison?

Maia cocked her head to the side and tapped him on the shoulder. "What's the matter, Draco? Stall?"

"You can't explain this whole Matrix thing to me now?" he prodded, hoping the odd muggle would cave in.

She shook her head and turned away. "It will be easier for you to understand on the outside. Very rarely do we ever encounter people who can handle the truth of things while still in the Matrix and, from what I've seen of you and Ophiuchus, I doubt wizards are any different in that respect."

"And just _when_ do I get to meet my mysterious benefactor anyway?" Draco wheedled.

Maia grinned and gestured to the doorway leading into the next room. "If you would just step right this way, Draco, I'd be delighted to introduce you."

Draco hesitated a moment, giving her a suspicious glare, and then stepped through the doorway and into the next room. Hamal and Vega were hovering over a complex set of hastily assembled muggle contraptions in one corner, working silently as they connected wires into the machines. Another chair sat off to the side, next to a tall, cracked mirror and surrounded by wires and odd devices that Draco didn't recognize in the least. And at the very back of the small room, a dark-haired teenager was working on some device or other. Draco couldn't see his face, as the other teen's back was facing him, but there was something very familiar about the teenager.

"Hamal, what's our status?" asked Maia, following him inside.

The young woman beamed and tapped something on one of the devices. "Almost ready, Cap'n!"

"Have a seat then, Draco," Maia said, smirking as she gestured to the empty chair.

Cautiously, the Slytherin navigated through the tangled mess of wires and sat down. "What exactly is all this... _muggle_ rubbish for, anyway? Can't you just wake me up?"

The teenager in the corner laughed and Draco shot him a nasty look.

"This is the only way to safely remove you from the Matrix," Maia explained, rather matter-of-factly. "Ophiuchus, if you would...?"

Slowly, the dark-haired teenager drew a wand from his pocket and turned around, revealing the all-too-familiar face of his hated rival, Potter.

"You!" Draco hissed in anger, immediately going for his own wand.

"Sectumsempra."

Blood arced through the air as the curse slammed into Draco's chest and violently knocked him back into the chair. Cursing under his breath as he realized he'd dropped his wand when he hit the chair, Draco tried to get up and retrieve his wand. However, fiery pain lanced through his chest along with a fierce wave of dizziness, and he was forced to stop, clutching helplessly at the chair.

"Sheesh, kid, couldn't you have used something a little _less_ messy?" Hamal complained, crinkling her nose in disgust.

Potter, or Ophiuchus as he seemed to be calling himself, didn't lower his wand. "Anything else would kill him before you got a signal."

"Bastard," Draco snarled, blood dribbling down his chin.

Maia approached him and cocked her head to the side. "Do try to keep things in perspective, Draco. You're a prisoner in a dream from which normally only death will release you."

"Lying bitch!" the Slytherin spat weakly. Sweet Merlin, there was so much blood and he was getting really light-headed.

Vega's thick, accented voice cut through the air. "Blood pressure is dropping."

"Operator, we need a signal," Potter said, speaking into one of those cell phone things. His face was blank and expressionless, as though he hardly noticed or cared that his former rival was bleeding to death and that he was the reason for it. Angry and only getting weaker, Draco viciously hoped Potter would drop dead.

"Hamal, any progress?" asked Maia, looking away.

"I'm looking, I'm looking!" the young woman whined.

Draco coughed, feeling even weaker. He couldn't believe how stupid he'd been! He'd been tricked into coming here and now they were just going to watch as he bled out!

Maia returned her attention to him. "I can understand that you must be a little confused, but this was absolutely necessary. In order to escape the Matrix, we must trick it into releasing you and that can only be done on the brink of death. Remember, this is a dream and your real body is outside, unharmed and perfectly healthy."

Good, Draco thought nastily. As soon as he was back in his real body, he'd curse them all into oblivion. Dimly, he was aware that it was getting harder to breath and blackness was starting to encroach on his vision.

Vega stiffly piped up, "We will lose him at this rate."

"Shit, Hamal... What's the location?" Maia snapped.

The young woman squeaked and replied, "Targeting now! Lock in three... two... one... Got him!"

Potter shouted into the phone, "Now, Operator!"

Instantly, Draco was plunged into darkness, Maia's knowing smirk still lingering in his mind.

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AN: As if you couldn't see it coming, Potter is Ophiuchus. The whole brink of death thing... well, I kinda figured that was the case after watching the original again and the Animatrix shorts. I inferred that pretty much everyone who gets liberated gets the "Blue Pill/Red Pill" speech from the ship captains in some form or another - one of those standard operation things. Reviews are welcome and greatly appreciated!


	4. Get Born Again

**Desert of the Real**

_By RaistlinofMetallica_

AN: Long time, no update, I know, I know...

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_IV: Get Born Again_

Draco was choking. There was something in his mouth and nose, something gross and metallic. He couldn't breathe and, panicking, he lashed out towards a dim light in the distance, kicking and hitting desperately in an attempt to free himself of whatever had him. By some stroke of luck, he managed to get his hands around the thing in his throat and tugged with every ounce of fear he possessed, until, choking and gagging, he managed to tear the damn thing away.

Light, bright and terrible, burst in his vision, burying everything in a wash of painful brilliance, and then a metallic hand clamped around his throat. Half-mad with terror, he prayed and prayed that it would not kill him, but he could feel it tugging and pulling at the back of his head, drawing something out, something sharp and – _oh Merlin, that shouldn't be happening!_

Then he was free, falling, sinking back into the darkness and being drained away like an afterthought.

Consciousness would come back to him in fits and starts, bursts of painful light, soreness and hunger. Draco wondered in these moments if he was dead or dreaming. He thought he saw people in those moments and occasionally electrical tremors racked his body, but he could not bear to open his eyes for fear that he might not be dreaming.

One day, he woke up and he couldn't return to sleep. He was in a dark, cold metal room, one that looked rusted and ancient. The clothes he was wearing were scratchy, inferior quality and totally unfamiliar. They were something those peasants, the Weasleys, would wear. And then he noticed the thing in his arm.

It was a black circular metal thing, with a catch attached to a metal plug. From the back of the plug, a long clear tube trailed across the bed and to a clear bag filled with some kind of fluid. Horrified, he fumbled at the thing, trying to get it free, and then, suddenly, it snapped open. He didn't waste a second, grabbing it and pulling it free, only to be further alarmed when he discovered it was a needle longer than his finger and the rest of whatever it was attached to seemed to be stuck in his arm.

Draco flung it away, scuttling away from it as if it would burn him.

"I was wondering when you'd wake up," Potter's amused voice called out.

The smarmy little bastard was standing in the door with an amused smirk on his face, as if he hadn't been the one to cut his throat. Oh, the hair was shorter and his glasses were missing, but there was no mistaking it – the teen lurking in his doorway was the insufferable Golden Prat, Potter.

"You bastard!" Draco roared, launching himself at Potter. "You tried to kill me!"

Potter had the gall to laugh and easily batted him away.

The blond seethed, baring his teeth in a vicious snarl as he launched a second assault. No, absolutely not: no one, but no one, did this to Draco Malfoy. "I'll kill you for this, Potter!"

"The name's Ophiuchus, Ferret," Potter said, his tone one of amusement and a little boredom as he moved fluidly out of the way. "You'd do well to remember it."

Draco cursed, every vile insult and swear he knew on the tip of his tongue, and made another attempt to strangle that smirk right off of Potter's face.

A woman's hand, strong and firm, stopped him in his path. It was Maia, though she, too, looked different – haggard, worn, rougher, all edges of mystery worn down to rough, homespun and bone-weary banality. "What's going on here, Ophiuchus? Having a pleasant reunion?" she asked, a dangerous hint of steel under the playful tone of her voice.

"Of course, Maia," Potter said, coolly, retreating from the room. "I was just checking to see if he was awake. He's obviously still disoriented."

Draco snarled, drawing back. "Disoriented? You bastard, you were trying to kill me! Probably came back to try and finish the job."

Potter rolled his eyes.

"No one on this ship is trying to kill you, Draco Malfoy," Maia said, calmly. "Not after how hard we've worked to bring you back to your real body and patch it up! You were in pretty poor shape there."

"What do you mean 'my real body'?" Draco asked, now thoroughly put out. As far as he was concerned, they'd tried to kill him and kidnapped him to this strange place, under some deranged, although quite plausible, claims of dream prison magic.

Maia let out a long sigh as she guided him out of the room and into a strange, rusty metal corridor. "Do you remember anything of the discussion we had about the Matrix?"

"Of course!" Draco said, turning up his nose at the sight of the place – really, where in the bloody hell were they? This place was disgusting!

Potter drifted down the corridor like a ghost, something ugly, black and metallic sitting like a sore on the back of his skull, and Maia followed, leading Draco along after him.

"The Matrix does not usually release the living, Draco, you must understand this if you understand nothing else," she said, solemnly. "In order to get it to release you, we had to trick it into thinking you are dead and of no use to it. Then and only then were we able to make it release your real body to a place where we could steal it back. It was the same with everyone here on my ship – we have all brushed close to death."

Draco was not in a mind to listen. This was insane.

But Maia's grip was firm and she was leading him deeper and deeper into this strange metal hell of hissing pipes and rusted walls, until at last, they emerged into a room filled with chairs and strange equipment.

"This is my ship, the Ananke, and this is where we broadcast our pirate signal to enter the Matrix," Maia said, leading him to a chair. "You wanted to know what the Matrix was, didn't you?"

"Maia," Potter piped up. He stood next to one of the empty chairs, all evidence of playfulness gone from his face. "I want to be the one to tell him. Please."

Maia stared at him.

"Yes, do tell me, I'm _dying_ to know," Draco bit out, sneering.

The woman closed her eyes and sighed. "Port in to the Construct, Ophiuchus. Draco, _watch._"

"Watch what?" Draco asked, huffily, crossing his arms in impatience.

Potter sat down in the chair and one of others he recognized from the alleyway unhooked a long cable with a wicked looking needle on it from the mess of wires.

"What's he doing with that thing?" Draco asked, his mind absently drifting back to the needle in that thing in his arm.

Maia did not answer and simply indicated he watch.

Draco jumped and nearly screamed when that huge needle went directly into that black thing in the back of Potter's head.

"Squeamish?" Potter taunted, as though a _freaking huge goddamn needle_ wasn't just jabbed into his head.

"Never!" Draco spat. Oh no, he was not going to be intimidated by this even though it was creepy and gross and totally not safe. Not to mention unhygienic. Ugh. Not even an army of the best House Elves money could buy could help this place.

Maia smiled a little, sitting him down. "And now, it's your turn."

"...Wait, what?" was all Draco was able to manage before there was a pinch and then... whiteness.

* * *

AN: lol, ok, I totally forgot about finishing this. BTW, it is possible this is a veiled commentary on the insanity of Rowling's writings.


	5. Fact and Fiction

**Desert of the Real**

_By RaistlinofMetallica_

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_V: Fact and Fiction_

Draco reeled from the disorientation as he suddenly found himself in an endless, empty white space. He grabbed his head and started when he realized he couldn't see the little black metal thing that was in his arm. His clothes had also changed back into his Hogwarts robe, everything just as it was before this Matrix nonsense started.

"It's called residual self-image," Potter said from behind him. "We take on the forms we are most familiar with."

Draco whirled, immediately going for his wand and was surprised to find it in his pocket, as he thought he'd dropped it earlier. He cracked a maniacal grin. It was time for payback.

Potter hardly seemed surprised at all and, more infuriatingly, dodged or countered every spell tossed at him as if it were child's play.

Draco screamed in rage and frustration.

_"Incarcerous,"_ Potter said, again from behind him, and Draco found himself bound too tightly to be able to do anything as Potter took away his wand. "Now that you've got that out of your system, are you ready to listen?"

"You bastard, you tried to kill me!" Draco hissed, clenching his hands into fists.

Potter rolled his eyes, drawing back. He twirled Draco's wand in between his fingers and pocketed it in his robes. "You're still hung up on that?"

"You _tried_ to _kill_ me," Draco repeated slowly, as if speaking to an exceptionally slow cousin of Goyle's.

"Why don't you take a look around and tell me what you see?" Potter asked.

Draco bristled, straining against the ropes. "Don't change the bloody subject!"

"Right now, I'm the only one in this place who knows how to get out and the only one who can release you from that spell," Potter said harshly. "Now, you said you wanted to know what the Matrix is. I figured you'd appreciate the explanation coming from a familiar face, so shut up and _take a bloody look around._"

Draco scowled and proudly raised his head, glancing around. "What am I supposed to be looking for? Everything's white."

"This place is called the Construct," Potter explained. "Every book that ever existed, every potion ever made, anything and everything we've ever needed, down to our clothes and wands – all of it is accessible in this space if we need it. This place is where we prepare to enter the Matrix."

Potter paused, raising his head incrementally. "Operator, please load the outside view."

The white vanished, dropping Potter and Draco into a scene ripped straight from his worst nightmares. The world was a blackened, twisted wasteland, filled with monsters made of metal and horrible twisted towers.

"This is the real world," Potter said quietly, "Or what's left of it."

Draco stared in horror. This couldn't be real. Potter had to be pulling his leg.

"I know what you're thinking," Potter continued. "That it can't be like this and that I'm playing a cruel trick – I thought the exact same thing when I was shown this. I wish I could tell you it is a trick. It's not. It's worse, it's so much worse."

Potter paused, leaning back on his heels and looking up at the sky. "A long time ago, muggles made machines that ran off the power of sunlight and could think like humans. Those machines rebelled against their creators and, to stop them, the muggles destroyed the sun."

"But the machines were not so easily destroyed," Potter said, frowning as he looked down. The ground shifted and they were now viewing a field of cluster-like sacks suspended on long, spindly stalks. Giant spider-like machines moved among them, collecting the sacks. "They discovered a new power source – _humans_."

Draco cried out in alarm as they were suddenly shifted closer to the sacks, close enough to see the infants with the plugs being fitted into them surgically. "Why didn't anyone stop them?" he asked, choking back the urge to vomit as the image shifted again, this time to show infants being loaded and wired into pods. "Why didn't the Wizengamot interfere?"

The world shifted back to jarring white as the ropes binding Draco fell away.

"Because wizards don't exist, Draco," Potter said bitterly. He tossed something at Draco's feet.

It was a book.

Draco leaned down, picking it up, and turned it over.

_Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_, the title declared in bold yellow letters.

"I knew you were full of yourself, Potter, but this –" Draco started.

Potter threw down another book. "Chamber of Secrets," he spat, and then tossed down a third, "Prisoner of Azkaban," a fourth book followed, "Goblet of Fire" and so on until a small pile of the brightly colored books lay at Draco's feet.

"These books," Potter snarled, "Were written centuries ago by a woman I've never met as entertainment for _children_. The real Harry Potter was a character in those books. He never existed."

Draco looked at the book in his hand and then at his rival, who had obviously gone clear round the twist.

"All my life, I've been living out a storybook," Potter ground out. "Every action I thought was my own was scripted out for me. All my friends, all the teachers, even _Voldemort_... all of them followed the same script. You don't believe me? Take a look for yourself."

Draco was not inclined to read about the Great Loony Prat's life, but when Potter pointed out a page number, he flipped to the page and started to read. It hit him, suddenly, that the scene he was reading was word-for-word his first encounter with Potter in Madam Malkin's _six years ago,_ from a third person perspective of Potter. Another page number was called and he was reading about that awful detention in the Forbidden Forest. Again, it was in third person perspective.

"It was Voldemort, you know, eating the unicorns," Potter said, as if it were a matter of the weather. He walked over and leaned down, pushing through the books. "I've read almost all of them. It's so close... there are little deviations here and there, but it's exactly the same as I remember it."

Potter paused, laughing humorlessly. "I can't bring myself to read the last two. I'm not sure I want to know how it was supposed to end."

"How...?" Draco murmured, looking at the book in a mix of confusion and horror as he skimmed through. There were things in here he'd honestly forgotten about.

"This is what the Matrix is," Potter replied, his expression tired. "It's a fictional world to keep us quiet and complacent while the machines use us to power them. Our magic? It's not real. We just have a natural inclination for warping the fabric of the Matrix, so they picked this story to limit us and make sure we don't test the boundaries. We play out this story, over and over again, and when it ends, presumably, we start all over from the beginning, our minds wiped clean so we can assume the roles of older characters or something."

Potter picked up one of the books. "None of this is real."

This was insane. It was one thing to claim to be trapped in a dream and it was another to claim the world was destroyed, but to believe that everything he'd ever known and all his memories were not only were just a children's story but also a mental prison conjured by muggle machinery? It was too much.

Draco shook and started to shout at him, not really caring about the words because he needed to tell that bastard to shut up and stop lying. His parents loved him, they were real, his friends were real, magic was real, Potter was lying...

The next thing he knew, Draco was back in the metal room, pitching forward onto the floor as he vomited up water. The metal device in his arm stared at him, cold, blackened and ugly. Weakly, he curled up into a ball and began to sob.

* * *

**AN: **Harry was actually the hardest character to write in this chapter - he didn't want to shut up and it kept becoming more obvious as I wrote him that the truth of the Matrix and his place in it crushed him and his sense of self. Hopefully, I managed to get that to come through in the way he speaks and moves.

I'm actually quite surprised there's been some renewed interest in this story.


End file.
